by Snow, Nicole
She didn't even waver. At least, her feet didn't, but the way she snatched her face away from me said some serious tears were about to fall.
The girl moved quick. Zipped right past me before I could catch her, wondering why the fuck she thought she could walk right out.
“Babe?”
Holy shit. I couldn't believe what I'd seen. She'd really, truly just thrown in the fucking towel, choosing that fucknut Gil over me?
What. The. Fuck?!
“Elle! Jesus Christ, where the hell do you think you're –“ I started running, one reach away from grabbing her and cuffing her to my fucking wrist.
Suddenly, I saw the asshole standing on the hill, waiting.
It was that fat piece of shit from the night we blew into town. He wore tape over his nose, trying to soothe the damage my knuckles had done to his ugly face.
He looked at me and grinned, one hand by his belt. He was sending a message, and I knew the bastard wouldn't hesitate to draw if I stepped up, even if this place was crawling with civilians.
Elle Jo looked back over her shoulder once. Saw her wipe one hot tear away as it rolled down her cheek before she turned back to the Tacoma brother and redoubled her steps.
I didn't move a muscle. That pitch black stone in my chest I called a heart splintered apart and turned into gravel by the time I heard fat boy's truck starting up, squealing outta the parking lot like they were in a real fucking hurry.
Then another sound. Sirens.
I couldn't take a chance just waiting with my thumb up my ass. If that old couple had truly called a buncha badges, I'd be gone like a phantom before they caught up here.
My bike started and I rode without direction. I swerved through the rush hour traffic heading toward SeaTac proper, not giving a shit if I wrecked.
I had my mission for Blackjack, for the club, but that was all I had now. I'd just lost the best thing that ever happened to me, plus my own damned mind.
Blinking back the angry red veil clouding my vision, I swore I'd never, ever let myself be this stupid again as long as I breathed.
VII: Lost in Translation (Elle Jo)
“Shit, still no answer. Fuck.” Sear swore, slamming his phone down on the dashboard. “Aw, come on little Elle, that fucking asshole won't follow us a single step unless he wants a bullet in his skull.”
“Just shut up. I need a moment.”
And I did. The man I'd left behind had been a bastard all my life, but I'd also fallen for him.
What started as a sham was starting to feel real – before he started making these cruel demands. What's worse, Asphalt had been right.
Of course I was hiding my father's deal with the Chinese from him. It couldn't get back to his club, or Tacoma would find itself at the mercy of swarms of angry Grizzlies several charters over.
Of course I'd disrespected him, thrown him off, and walked away. Blood ran thick – always had since daddy sat me on his knee as a little girl and told me it was everything. It ran like mud in my veins, cementing my loyalties, even when I wanted to break and tell the man with the beautiful green eyes everything weighing down my shoulders.
Of course I loved the bastard too, and I'd meant it when I told him. Now, whenever this crap was finally done, I just hoped I could hold it all together until he shoved the divorce papers in my face and broke me a second time.
I couldn't let him see how bad he'd hurt me. Not today, and not ever.
“Your dad's gonna make it all right, Elle Jo. He knows what he's doing. If those fucks down in California had a little more brains, we wouldn't be having this shitty problem right now,” Sear growled, pounding his truck's steering wheel. “You wouldn't be wearing that bald fuck's brand neither. We've done a damned good job throwing them off the trail, but if that won't work no more, then we'll throw fists instead.”
I grimaced. Civil war was brewing in the club, and nothing would slow it down.
I looked at him, eyeing the bandage on his nose. Asphalt had smashed it just a few nights ago at daddy's house, and I'd fought him too.
He'd won me over, and lost me in the same agonizing week. I couldn't believe how fast the world raised me up and smashed me on my face again.
“Sear, I didn't ask for any commentary. Just drive.”
He listened. The big prospect chomped a cheap cigar and drove on, toward daddy's house.
When we got out, everything seemed eerily quiet. As far as he knew, my father was supposed to meet us here, and we'd all ride down with the club to deal with the Chinese.
There hadn't been much notice. I fought more tears, remembering how I'd listened to daddy with one ear, more worried about losing what I had with Asphalt, rather than this stupid gun trade going right.
“Fuck.” Sear came upstairs, slamming the basement door shut behind him. “No sign of 'em anywhere. The other brothers aren't answering their phones, but I got a message from Line – we gotta go to the warehouse downtown, Elle. They're probably all waiting for us.”
“The warehouse?” I cocked my head and squinted. “Daddy always said that was off limits for me. Too dangerous.”
That was the word he'd used for the club storage site since I was a little girl. He probably had good reason for scaring my teenage self straight, but he'd talked about it just before the wedding, reminding me that was where club business began and my involvement ended.
“That's what the VP says,” Sear growled. “Come on. Let's get our asses down there.”
Back into the truck we went. I couldn't take my mind off the stink beginning to rise from this situation the entire ride there.
It was almost dark by the time we rolled through the huge, high gate with a rusted sign marking club territory.
PROPERTY OF THE GRIZZLIES MC. KEEP THE FUCK OUT.
I clenched my jaw. Sear seemed a little more tense than usual too, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.
His eyes lit up when he saw two familiar club trucks and a sleek row of bikes parked near the side. “Oh, thank fuck. Everybody's here. Guess they're all inside. I'll get this thing parked, and then we can head in. Let me go a ways ahead, just to make sure nothing fucking crazy happens. I'll –“
One second, Sear's lips were moving like he'd been rattling off this week's groceries for pickup. Then something whizzed by my face, tore through the windshield, and went right through him.
Quick. Hot. Blinding.
I opened my eyes and took in the gruesome scene. Something had totally taken out the driver's window, shattered it to little bits. Sear's head went with it.
The bloody crater where his face had been slumped forward, leaking red gore all over the seat. Only the seat belt stopped his body from totally falling on the steering wheel and blasting the horn.
My eyes snapped down, trying to comprehend what I'd seen without losing my sanity. My hands, my arms, my shirt was completely sprayed with blood, and more red droplets rained down on me. I opened my mouth and screamed.
The world spun, went silent. I barely noticed my door ripping open, and two sets of angry hands pulling me out of the truck before I blacked out.
* * * *
When the world stopped spinning, it blurred. I woke up with a terrible headache, woozy like I'd taken a long road trip on an upset stomach.
The blood all over me, now dried to a rusty brown color, caused me to heave. My hands were tied to the back of the chair I found myself in. There was nowhere to go but to the side.
I tipped my head and vomited, then barfed some more when I thought about how incredibly fucked we all were if these assholes could kill Sear in cold blood.
Cold, rapid fire words in Chinese echoed a few feet away. I struggled to make them out.
Girl's awake. Go say hi. Maybe she'll talk more than these dead fucking Grizzlies, if she knows anything.
Three cold faced Chinese men leaned over me. The one in the middle looked older, wearing a salt and pepper goatee. He reached into his gray suit pocket and pulled out a small LED fla
shlight.
“Oh!” The asshole shined it right in my eyes. I jerked, feeling the light stabbing into my brain.
“Very responsive, just like your father,” a voice said, switching to English. “Miss Mathers, please call me Zee. You, sweet thing, are going to tell us everything we need to know about this ambush.”
Ambush? What the hell was he talking about?
“I don't know what you're getting at. I came here to help my father with a business deal. You were supposed to be doing a contract together. Weapons, I think? He never really told me the specifics.” I paused, considering my words. “He never really told me anything. Club business.”
I managed a shaky smile, repeating the phrase that had always worked before as a substitute for fuck off. I had to play dumb. If I could convince them I was just a stupid little girl helping with the family business, I might walk out of this alive, or at least delay them until Tacoma could get some backup.
But the entire club was here, wasn't it? I'd seen the bikes outside. Jesus, how many of them were still alive?
“You know, I might believe you.” Zee smiled, slowly pacing around me, circling like a menacing gray shark. “Why would dear old dad tell you anything about what's really going on when he was willing to put you between two dragons?”
Zee whirled, faced one of his men, and started talking Chinese.
What a piece of shit! Bring him in here. We'll just see how much she knows.
If she's telling the truth, we'll finish off his men, just like we planned. Sell her into slavery, perhaps.
If she's lying...we do them all. I'll garrote this bitch myself.
A cold, crazy chill ran up my spine. I saw him pull on something half-hidden in his pocket. A sharp cord, which he pulled up to his chest in the corner of my eye. Zee fiddled with it a few times, undoubtedly thinking about slicing into my throat with it, and then stuffed it back into place.
“We wait,” he said, staring at me with his dark brown eyes. “Dear old dad really must think he's hot shit. I flew here all the way from Shanghai, you know. My own fucking time and money, only to find out he meant to have me in that chair, ransoming me off after he killed my men!” Zee's hand slammed the wooden backside over my shoulder, rattling the chair so hard I could feel it in my bones. “Fucking idiot. Biker trash! I'll rip his balls off myself and he can watch them laying on the ground. You too, Miss Mathers, if you're telling the truth. He's wasted your time just as much as ours.”
His eyes bulged. He leaned in, looking like a total maniac.
Great, so I had Jekyll and Hyde to contend with. That terrified me, even if it gave me a few narrow options for survival.
No emotion. I couldn't let it come.
I didn't flinch, didn't protest, didn't show any reaction to the psychopath whispering in my ear.
When he stepped away, his face looked relaxed again, back to his somber, business-like expression.
Zee rolled up his sleeve and tapped his watch, an expensive platinum-plated luxury fit for a mafia don. A minute later, I heard several pairs of feet scraping on the concrete.
When I looked up, two of Zee's men were dragging my father into the vast room. His hands were tied together tight, and he looked like he was barely conscious. His movements were jerky, erratic, the protests on his lips so incredibly soft for being pulled along like an animal to slaughter.
“No, no, no,” he whispered, over and over, as if he could've believe it.
Neither could I. Hell, I could hardly handle what was happening in front of me. In all the years I'd grown up with daddy disappearing, going away and coming back cut, bruised, or bloody, he'd never looked as terrible as this.
So defeated. Dead, like they'd already done him in.
They'd bludgeoned him in the head. Blood dried in his hair and spread across his face, a rust red spiderweb coming out of the huge scar on his head.
Oh, God. Imagining the pain, my heart sank like a stone. It took everything inside me to hold back tears.
The Chinese released him and he toppled to the ground, laying like he'd just died. Zee walked over slowly, calmly, and then slammed his polished shoe into my father's ribs. His bones cracked so hard I winced.
“You have a visitor, old man. Do you still recognize your own daughter, or did that blow to the head fuck something up?” Zee grabbed my father's hair and pulled, yanked his head up like a doll's until we looked at each other.
Daddy's eyes went big and dark as soon as he saw me. I could've counted – five, four, three, two, one – before he flew into a biting, kicking rage.
“Let her fucking go! I made a mistake. I fucked up bad, asshole, but she doesn't need to be here like me and my guys. Just let her –“
Zee nodded. Half a second later, his boys shoved my father back on the ground. One held him down while the other bastard punched him in the stomach until he stopped making any sounds at all.
I pinched my eyes shut. Zee grabbed my face, pressing his hands tight to both sides, and twisted my head around hard, forcing my eyes where he wanted them.
“Look, you stupid little bitch. I want you to understand – he's going to die. It's just a question of whether or not you go with him. Now, tell me truthfully, girl...were you involved in this ambush?”
“No!”
I could barely hear my own voice. It came out sharp, cold and distant, like I'd tried to shout down a long, vacant tunnel to someone on the other side.
“Hm. I almost believe you, Elle Mathers. Let's see if your daddy's got a little life left in him...”
Zee spun, and began walking over to my father, corralled by the two dead-eyed killers at his side. I hung my head, refusing to watch, even though it risked the mafia don doing something much worse.
God damn it, daddy, you screwed up BAD, I thought, hiding my tears. I can't watch you die like this.
I can't.
Zee had other ideas. He pulled my father's face up and lifted something from his pocket. I flinched, thinking it was going to be the garrote.
Oh God, I was going to watch the mobster slash his throat in front of me. No, wait. It was just a handgun.
Sighing relief at the sight was so sick and twisted I wanted to laugh.
Then the Dragon don slammed it hard across daddy's jaw. His blue eyes opened, going gray with anger.
“What the fuck?!” Daddy screamed through the blood filling his mouth.
“Shut up, Gil!” Another vicious blow landed on his jaw, this time the opposite side. “So nice of you to join the living again – for just a little while longer, anyway. I'm giving you one chance to save your daughter. Only one. And just to show you I'm serious...”
Zee turned to his men and shouted in Chinese.
Bring the others in, the ones we haven't killed.
Daddy groaned in Zee's grip, his head turning, like he wanted so badly to shake off the dizzy, hellish pain clouding his mind. For a second, our eyes met.
I had to look away. One more moment, and I'd have lost it, seeing nothing but I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry mirrored in his eyes, over and over again.
Apologies wouldn't help us now. We needed a miracle.
“Ahhh, there they are.” Zee smiled and let my father fall to the dusty concrete floor, clapping his hands together.
He switched to Chinese, barking his orders with bloodlust. Line them up. That's right, one by one, and keep your eyes on these fucking bastards. They'll try anything when they figure out how fucked they are.
Six guys were still alive. It was a small relief, but my heart thudded hopefully, amazed to see anyone in the club alive.
Uncle Line looked up, his single good eye going wide when he saw me. His mouth opened in a silent, round curse.
Oh, shit.
Zee's two underlings were joined by two more, all of them cold, quiet men in business suits. They went down the line one-by-one, checking the handcuffs on each man, then stepping behind them on opposite ends of the row when they were finished.
Their bastard leader tu
rned his attention back to my poor father, grabbing his hair. “Nice, clear view, yes? How strange it must be to see your men lined up, defeated, completely at my mercy, Gil.”
“Fuck you,” daddy growled. “Don't know how yet, but I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, motherfucker. I'll rip your balls off with my bare fuckin' hands.”
Zee laughed. Not just a throaty chuckle, but a full, high pitched, scary-as-shit hyena cackle. I wished I could've covered my ears, if only to pretend we weren't all at the mercy of this ruthless psychopath.
“Aww, so feisty. I wonder what it will take to break a man like you, Gil. Yes, I could take the easy route and execute your daughter in front of you.” Zee looked at me, and I froze, my blood running glacial. “No, too easy. She only dies if she's guilty. We don't kill the innocent here. Fortunately, I have my pick of you and your troops, all of them guilty as sin. You'll die, Gil, but not too quickly, I hope.”
“Fuck...” Daddy tried to twist in the mafia devil's grip, but he was too dazed, too screwed up to fight the death grip the man had on his throat.
“I'm going to break you first. We'll start with that one-eyed jackal at the end, and see how far we get today. Sound good?”
“Line...”
Oh, God. No. No, no, no.
Not Uncle Line!
The Vice President shared a look with daddy, and he nodded, accepting whatever fate these animals had planned. Daddy's eyes bulged in horror, and he shook his head, refusing to accept it.
I just cowered, trying not to remember all the times my Uncle Line bounced me on his knee, or let me stay up late when daddy was gone, watching crappy reruns and eating pizza.
The mafia men all seemed to have garrote wires like Zee. I watched one of them step up, put his arm around Line's throat, then pull a sharp string around it.
His life would be over in less than a minute, dying in a bloody, gushing heap. I imagined it before it even happened, and that sent me over the edge.
No more strong, brave MC princess. Just a scared one, a frightened young woman who'd never been cut out for any of this shit.
I cracked. I cried. I fucking bawled until my sobs echoed off the high rafters, wishing I could be anywhere but here.
